


So polite

by bloodandcream



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Erectile Dysfunction, M/M, Sam topping from the bottom, Season 9
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 11:38:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8012158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Please,” was whispered into his mouth.<br/>So polite.<br/>Sam was in control here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So polite

There was a faint scent of lavender from the crumpled top sheets in a pile next to the bed, from the fitted sheet that was pulling up on one corner, from the pillow pressed under Cas’ head. Every time Sam dipped down a little closer to him, he could smell it, barely, laced under the smell of sweat.

Dean bought lavender dryer sheets. It was ridiculous. Sam still used them on his laundry.

Thighs aching, Sam knew they’d been going at this way too long but he felt so goddam close. Lifting up and rocking his hips down steady, pushing back just right to graze every tender spot inside that had his pulse quickened and his body shivering with heat, he felt like he just needed another minute and he could be there too.

Settling down on Cas’ lap, Sam’s cock was completely soft but there a gloss of pre-come along Cas’ stomach and maybe…. maybe it might work today anyway. If he kept trying.

Hands locked around Cas’ wrists, Sam stretched along his smaller body, curled over him and fucked down on his cock even harder.

There was a small triumph in the hitch of Cas’ breath, how his eyes went a little wider and his fingers twitched. He didn’t always get off on this either. Somewhere in a weird in-between that wasn’t quite human and wasn’t really all his own angel self - corrupted with borrowed grace that would lend only so much strength before it turned on him - the world was a strange place for Castiel as well.

Sam didn’t really understand how it altered his perception, but there were things Sam could relate to. The countdown. The niggling sense in the corner of your mind that you are not quite all yourself, but like a shadow in the corner of your eye once you try to look at it head on it just disappears.

Cas could get distracted easily. Space out and go other places in his head. Sometimes, he stayed with Sam. Patient and pliant and so fucking giving to whatever whim Sam’s body had; occasionally, Sam felt like he was taking advantage of his friend.

More than friends. Maybe. It was hard to tell.

Shifting underneath Sam, he was fully present today and Sam could see the pain of human conflict in the pinch of his eyes and the twist of his lips. Still, Sam kept Cas’ hands above his head, and Cas let him. Wrists always felt thin and breakable, and even if he couldn’t hurt Cas the body beneath him felt human and at mercy to Sam.

He was in control here.

Chest heaving, there was a trickle of sweat down his spine, hair stuck to his face and it was so muggy in this small, closed, underground room. Sam had passed oversensitivity. The coarseness of pubic hair against his thighs and between his legs as he slid with little jerks of his hips keeping Cas buried inside, it was starting to get distracting.

Maybe he tried too hard sometimes. Cas was indulgent when he needed a distraction.

Gadreel was in the wind; Dean was wherever he wanted to be and probably with Crowley. Sometimes, Sam felt like it was payback for all the lying and sneaking around with Ruby. He didn’t really have a leg to stand on, to lecture Dean about any of that. God, but did he worry. There was so much Sam couldn’t control.

Buried under the earth and wrapped in protective sigils and wardings, with all the power and knowledge they hadn’t even scratched the surface of that the Men of Letters contained, Sam didn’t feel so vulnerable. Like he had to watch his back. Keep a gun and a knife in reach. As long as he could trust his partner.

Cas gave him the control of this.

He was wandering. Mentally. The edge of tight-strung promise that had looked so, so close - it was just gone. Sam was sticky-sweaty from stubbornly fucking himself on Cas’ cock for an indeterminate amount of time while Cas let himself be used like a toy and he couldn’t even fucking get hard.

Letting go of Cas’ wrists, Sam pulled off and rolled over. Flopping on the bed next to Cas with a groan, Sam didn’t really feel like leaving. Pushing up on an elbow and shifting to his side, Sam looked at his friend. He’d never really had a type, it was just particular people he could feel comfortable enough around. Cas was beautiful, though. Rough around the edges. Soft in the right ways. Patient.

Slope of his belly quivering, sheen of sweat on his skin - so achingly human - cock still hard tapping against the crease of his thigh and those wide blue eyes dark, Cas watched back.

“You can touch me.” Sam told him.

Cas hadn’t even moved his hands from where Sam had pinned them above his head. Small smile in the corner of his lips, Cas brought one hand down, slowly, to brush hair off Sam’s forehead and tuck it behind the shell of his ear, fingers lingering down the length of his neck.

“What do you want, Cas?”

Sam asked, too, because sometimes it was hard to tell if he should touch or if he should go or if they should just turn out the lights and lay together and listen to each other breathing. Present. Safe.

Curling onto his side towards Sam, Cas held his stare and considered. “Kiss me?”

It was the small intimacies he seemed to enjoy the most. Kissing. Fingers-woven hand holding. Spooning - little or big position indiscriminate.

Shuffling closer to angle his head down, slot their lips together, Sam held himself on the elbow of one arm, over Cas, let the moment stretch. He could feel when Cas decided this was a good thing and more was needed, the ripple of a breath passing through him, ‘o’ of his lips as Cas opened to Sam.

Free hand trailing down the slope of Cas’ waist, Sam felt the tiny gasp and the slide of fingers against his neck pushing back into his hair. Slipping his tongue inside Cas’ mouth, Sam teased blunt fingernails in the thick hair around Cas’ cock, damp with lube and sweat.

“Please,” was whispered into his mouth.

So polite.

Sam was in control here.

Curling his hand loosely around the hard length, hot and silk smooth and slicked, Sam thumbed along the glans as he caught Cas’ lower lip between his teeth and tugged. Two hands on his shoulders, now, fingers insistent, a whine in the back of his throat and Cas was spilling over Sam’s hand into the space between their curled bodies and the bedsheets smelling faintly of lavender.

It was a powerful thing, to be able to do this to a not-quite angel. To be able to trust and strip down all his walls and ask for this, take it. It was comforting, to have someone that felt safe in his arms, who saw and knew Sam, who stayed anyway.


End file.
